Surprised by Love (7 page)

 “No
more than the truth,” he said airily.

****

The
next day, Connie reminded him, and Alessandro spent some time on the phone with
his
avvocato,
Giulio Castellano.  In case she’d have to deal with this
at some future time, she listened, glad to be able to follow what Alessandro
was telling his lawyer.
 
“Fine,” said Alessandro at last. 
“Tell me when it’s all done.  I don’t want her to spring any more
unsuitable surprises on me.”

Connie
frowned.  For all Alessandro’s cool, his mother had succeeded in upsetting
him.  Why? she wondered—realizing this was not a question she could ever
ask him.

When
Alessandro put away his phone, he smiled at her.  “Did you catch the drift
of what I was telling Giulio?”

Connie
nodded.  “Yes.  I suspect you spoke a little more slowly than you
usually do?  I took notes of what you were saying and will open a file for
your mother’s allowance payments.”

 “Wonder
Woman!” he teased.  Becoming serious, he said, “We should organize my
return dinner.  The guest of honour will be my Nonna
. 
She’s
my paternal grandmother.  I’ll have to invite my mother too.  No need
to advertise my annoyance with her all over the family—and subsequently to the
world.  I suspect some of my younger relatives of augmenting their income
by leaking info to the media.”  He smiled at Connie’s gasp of
dismay.  “Don’t think about it.  If they went too far I would have
them banished to Pantelleria—you know where that is?”

Connie
nodded.  “Yes, a tiny island between Sicily and the Tunisian coast. 
They would die of boredom there.”       

He
nodded.  After a moment, he went on, “I’ll give you a list of the
relatives we’ll invite.  I’ll take you down to the dining room—I told you
it seats 48 at a U-shaped table, didn’t I?”  Connie nodded, and Alessandro
went on, “The main point is that I will be at the top of the U, flanked to my
right by my Nonna
,
and to my left by you.  I’ve told you whom I
want next to my Nonna
and you.  You can shuffle the others’ names
like a deck of cards, and place them around the table in any configuration that
appeals to you.  If you can accidentally place Marisa quite far from
Roberto, that would be a kindness to him.”

Connie
said, “Done.”  After a moment she went on, “The other evening when you
were at your mother’s, I went down to the dining room, and I found a cardboard
mock-up of the table, with slots where we can put in names.  I’ll show you
when I’ve finished, in case I have inadvertently put a nice person far down the
table, or vice-versa.  The final decision about the seating will be yours,
of course.”  

Alessandro
nodded absently.  “Very good.  Now, what would you like to do? 
Take a look at the Uffizi?”

Connie’s
eyes were radiant.  “Oh, Alessandro—could we?”

He
nodded.  “We can do anything you want.  I do wish you’d tell me what
you’d like to do, though.  Contrary to what you seem to believe, I’m not
clairvoyant.”

Connie
laughed.  “Clairvoyant enough for me.  Yes, please, the Uffizi.”

“Comin’
up,” Alessandro said. 

Chapter
6.

After
their visit to the Uffizi, Connie seemed to be on a high that lasted several
days.   Alessandro smiled gently.  She was like a flower that hadn’t
been watered for some time, and now she blossomed.  He damned
Bob-the-snob—as he thought of him—who had wanted to force Connie into his
preconceived idea of an upscale wife.  The man had been too stupid to
realize he
had
an upscale, extremely classy wife—all he had succeeded in
doing was sucking all the joy out of her life, with his vulgar worries about
what people might think.

Connie
asked him hesitantly about the dinner—who would cook it? 

Smiling,
Alessandro said, “My chef, of course.  The staff will serve, Nìccolo will
supervise.  Once we’ve decided on a day for the dinner, I’ll ask the chef
for some ideas.”  Connie had gone quiet, he noticed.  “What?” he
asked.

Connie
shrugged an elegant shoulder.  “When we’re working, I never think about
how alarmingly rich you are.  But here, in your Italian
palazzo
…”

Alessandro
grinned.  “Alarmingly rich?  That’s a new one, Connie.  I must
save that up to tell my uncles.  Particularly Roberto could use a few
laughs in the life that Marisa leads him.”

Connie
sketched a frown.  “Don’t tease, Alessandro.”

“Who’s
teasing,
cara? 
Never before have I been called alarmingly
rich.”  To his own surprise, he gently stroked a recalcitrant curl behind
her ear.  “You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met.”

Connie
smiled.  “And you’re unlike any man I’ve ever met.”

****

A
date was set for the dinner—all the guests phoned their acceptance, including
Gina.  He lifted a brow to Connie.  “Mother is fighting to the last.”

“We
will make sure it is
her
last, not yours,” Connie quipped.

An
idea occurred to him.  “I would like my friend Valentino Chiari to design
a gown for you for that dinner—but there isn’t time.  Still, I’ll get him
on the phone—maybe if you tell him your preferred style, colors, size, he could
bring some of his RTW?”

“What
is RTW, Alessandro?”

“Ready
to wear.”  He grinned.  “Sounds a bit better than ‘off the
rack.’  I’ll send my plane for him.”  A smile touched his lips. 
“Later, we’ll go spend some time in Milan, and then Valentino will have time to
design some things for you exclusively.”

The
one gown has miraculously blossomed into ‘some things,’
Connie
thought.  She glanced up at Alessandro.  “I’ll buy whatever clothes
you think I’ll need to be properly attired as your PA in any
circumstances.  All right?”

“Did
you say ‘I’ll buy’?”

Connie
nodded.  “You pay me a huge salary—and all the time we’ve been here I
haven’t done a thing to earn it.  At least let me pay for any clothes you
think I’ll need.”

Calmly,
Alessandro said, “The reason you have to have these extra clothes is because my
life in Italy requires it.  Once we’re back in Ocean Breeze, you’d have no
further use for them.  It’s only fair that I should pay for them. 
Will you be generous and do it my way?”

“Actually,
those clothes would get quite a work-out at Tom’s dinners.”  She
smiled.  “Either of us can afford whatever Valentino Chiari charges—you
could afford it more easily than I, of course—but…”  She gazed into the
cornflower blue of his eyes, shaded by the long sweep of his curling black
lashes.  “If you wish it, fine.  Thank you.”

Have
I won?  She gave in so graciously. 
“Thank
you,
Connie.”

****

Valentino
Chiari breezed in, bringing several dinner and evening gowns for Connie to try,
and Alessandro quietly bought them all.  Tino was glad of the promise that
his friend and his woman—as he thought of Connie—would spend some time in
Milan, and that he could then design an entire wardrobe for her. 

In
a private moment with Alessandro, he said, “I’ve always known that when it came
to being serious about a woman, you would find someone exceptional—and that is
exactly what you’ve done with Connie.”

“She’s
my PA, Tino,” Alessandro protested. 

“All
the better.  Later in life, when passions do not flame so high any more,
you will be able to have intelligent conversations with her.”

Connie
came in and, to Alessandro’s relief, it was impossible to return to this
subject, although it seemed Tino was keen to pursue it.

****

Later,
when Valentino had been flown back to Milan, Alessandro thought about what Tino
had said. 
Ridiculous.  I like my life as it is—I’m not in the
market for a wife, and after what Connie went through with Bob-the-snob, she
isn’t likely to want another stab at marriage.  She told me so, at that
initial interview.  No, Tino was his usual outrageous self.  And yet—

****

On
the day of the family dinner at Alessandro’s
palazzo
, he suggested to
Connie that they both have a rest in the afternoon.  The evening might be
choppy, and while Alessandro felt certain he could control the more unruly
elements—and that included his mother—he intended being alert to any implied
insult or offensive remark addressed to Connie.  And his mother and Marisa
would try, of that he was certain.  He smiled somewhat grimly. 
Let
them try, and wonder what fell on them.

 Maybe
he could do Uncle Roberto a favour and exile Marisa to her native
Brindisi—about as far from Florence as you could get.  There, she could
watch the Greek tour boats come in, and do her best to attract a tourist’s
interest.  He nodded to himself.  Yes, Roberto would be glad to be
rid of the bitch.  He’d better discuss it with Giulio, do it properly and
efficiently.

And
he would stop his mother’s allowance if she tried to interfere in his private
life—or business, for that matter.  Let her try living on the small sum
she had inherited from her own parents.

****

When
Alessandro woke up from his nap, he showered and shaved, then—immaculate in
black tie—he knocked at Connie’s door. 

 “Connie? 
Are you awake?”

Connie
opened her door, and Alessandro sucked in a breath.  Valentino’s subtle
jade green silk gave scintillating brilliance to her eyes, and the pure lines
of the dress showed off Connie’s perfect figure. 

 “You’re
dazzling.  That’s the most alluring dress I’ve ever seen you wear.” 

She
smiled.  “So are you elegance personified.  Alessandro?  Shall
we close this meeting of the mutual admiration society?”

He
laughed.  “Yes, we sounded pretty breathless there.  Come downstairs
with me, and we’ll have a little
Krug
to start the evening privately on
a happy note.  Later on, it may be uphill work to keep things happy on the
surface, but we’ve got to manage it for Nonna’s sake.”

“You
know I’ll do anything you want to make sure of that.”  She smiled
gently.  “Don’t risk an unhappy atmosphere by reacting too strongly to
some nasty remark to me by your mother or Marisa.  I’ve always thought
that I can only be offended by my peers—and forgive me for saying it, but your
mother’s intelligence isn’t quite up to the mark.  As for that common
Marisa—‘nuff said?”  She laid her hand briefly on his arm.  “Let them
spew their poison, as long as your Nonna
isn’t upset by it.  I
promise you, it won’t upset me.”
        

 “Ah,
but she would be, you see.  She knows how much I like you.”

Connie
blushed.  Hesitantly she asked, almost on a whisper,  “Do you really,
Alessandro?  Like me?”

He
nodded.  “Mmm.  And you?  Do you like me?”

 “Oh
yes, Alessandro, surely you know that?  We get on so well…”

Nìccolo
entered, carrying a tray with two crystal flutes and a silver ice-bucket
holding a bottle of vintage
Krug. 
 Alessandro frowned. 
Nìccolo’s timing could be improved upon.  He shrugged casually. 
Nothing to be done now, the moment had passed.  He hoped another moment
would come along soon, because suddenly, to his own deep surprise, he had found
an answer to his mother’s relentless matchmaking.   “Thanks, Nìccolo,
I’ll do the wine.  It sounds like there’s someone at the door.”

Moments
later, he heard Nìccolo’s voice, welcoming and respectful.  “If the
Signora
Contessa vedova
  will come with me?  The
Signor Conte
is
in the small drawing room, with
Signora
Sherwood.”  Alessandro flew
up to welcome his Nonna
. 

 “I’m
so glad I persuaded you to come a little early.  Once the entire family is
gathered here, we will not have much chance of talking.”  Over Nonna’s
head, he raised a brow at Nìccolo. 

 “An
extra flute—immediately,
Signor Conte.” 
Alessandro put his arm
around his petite grandmama and walked slowly with her into the small drawing
room.  He nodded to himself, when Connie quickly rose to her feet, waiting
for Nonna
to greet her. 

 “Ah! 
You must be my Grandson’s Connie—?  I am so glad to see you.  That is
an exceptional dress, and you wear it with assured elegance.  With most
women, this dress would wear them.”  Nonna
reached for Connie’s
hands.

“Dowager
Countess…”